The Work and the Glory Read online

  Joshua stepped to where three shirts hung from a bush. On the ground next to the bush was a water jug and several rags. He took one of the rags and mopped at his forehead. Nathan and Hyrum moved to join him. The rain and overcast from the day before had gone, and while the temperature was pleasant enough, the humidity was still high, and they had removed their shirts. But the first swarms of mosquitoes were out now, and they didn’t allow one to sit around with bare back for long without regretting it.

  Hyrum pulled his shirt over his head and tucked it into his trousers, then grabbed the water jug and drank deeply. He handed it to Nathan, then picked up a rag of his own and began to wipe at the sweat across the back of his neck. Joshua watched him for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Hyrum?”

  “Yes.”

  Joshua tossed the rag aside. “We were in town yesterday,” he continued.

  Hyrum looked up. “Yes.”

  Nathan, sensing suddenly what was coming, shot his brother a warning look, but if Joshua saw it, he ignored it. “Some men stopped to talk to Joseph.”

  Wary now, Hyrum waited.

  “They said Joseph has some kind of gold Bible.”

  There was no change of expression, and no outward signs of response, but there was a sudden, unmistakable coolness in the air. Finally, he spoke. “The Murdocks, you mean?” He pronounced the name with great disdain.

  “Yeah. Will Murdock and his brother. And a cousin.”

  Hyrum gave a soft snort of disgust.

  Joshua went on more slowly now, but still determined. “He also said somethin’ about angels.”

  “Joshua!” Nathan broke in sharply. “It ain’t our place to pry.”

  Joshua glared at him, but he wasn’t about to back down. “Well?” he pressed.

  Hyrum lifted his head, his eyes searching across the field. About a hundred rods away, Joseph and Benjamin were unhooking the log and getting ready to start back. Hyrum stood up abruptly and brushed off his pants. “You’ll have to ask Joseph about that,” he said shortly.

  It was just barely sundown. The spring air was cooling quickly now, leaving a misty haze across the fields and meadows. The songbirds seemed muted and still. The smoke from the cabin’s chimney rose in lazy, gentle eddies. Nathan hurried through unhitching the mules, then forked some hay into the manger. He had left the others cleaning up the last of the brush, but he knew Joseph and Hyrum would soon be leaving for home and if he didn’t hurry he would miss them.

  As he came out of the barn, he saw with relief that the Smith brothers were just saying good-bye to Matthew and Becca near the front porch of the cabin. His mother was there too, wiping her hands on her apron, then waving to them as they moved off.

  Nathan hurried over to his mother. “I think I’ll walk a ways with Joseph and Hyrum,” he said. “I’ll be back in time for supper.”

  She looked a little surprised, then shrugged. “All right. We’ll be eating in about an hour.”

  “I’ll be back.” He hurried off to join the two figures starting down the lane toward the main road.

  Joseph and Hyrum seemed glad for the company, and for the first few minutes as they walked they chatted idly about the day’s work, the warming weather, the prospects of this year’s crops. But as they turned onto the road leading to Palmyra Village and passed the Martin Harris farm, they lapsed into a companionable silence, enjoying the pleasantness of the evening.

  But Nathan had not come for idle chat. Since earlier that day when Hyrum had neatly sidestepped Joshua’s questions about the things Will Murdock had said in town, Nathan had been bursting with questions of his own. Being like his mother, he was too polite to broach the subject head-on like Joshua had. But if there was any way to find out more, he was determined to do it.

  Clearing his throat, he decided to break the silence. “Is your wife from around here, Hyrum?”

  “Yes. Jerusha’s from the Barden family, down near Canandaigua.”

  “And yours, Joseph?”

  He shook his head. “No, Emma’s from Harmony, Pennsylvania.”

  That surprised Nathan a little. “Harmony? Where’s that?”

  “About a hundred twenty miles south of here. Just across the state line.”

  “My,” Nathan smiled, “you must have roamed far afield in your courting days.”

  Joseph laughed. “A couple of years ago a man by the name of Stowell came into Palmyra to buy wheat. He was from down near the Colesville and South Bainbridge area, which is about fifteen miles this side of the Pennsylvania line. Somehow Mr. Stowell had gotten an old document which was supposed to show the location of a cave where the Spaniards had hidden a considerable treasure. I was needing work right then, so my father and I hired on to help him dig for it.”

  He shook his head slowly, as if remembering. “We dug in the area around Harmony, which is about twenty-five miles south of the Stowell farm, so while I was there I boarded with a man by the name of Isaac Hale.” Again a quiet smile stole across his face. Nathan was learning this was characteristic of Joseph. “He had a daughter…”

  Nathan laughed. “I understand.”

  “Actually, Mr. Hale wasn’t so fond of the idea of me courting Emma. I mean he barely knew me, and I was not at that time employed in what folks viewed as a promising occupation. I finally convinced Stowell that looking for treasure was a waste of time. I stayed on in the Colesville area for a time, working for a family named Knight. They were kind enough to lend me a sleigh and a horse to go south and visit Emma. Finally, this last January we got married.”

  “She’s a fine woman,” Hyrum said.

  “As is Jerusha,” Joseph agreed.

  “I hope to meet them both sometime.”

  They walked along in silence for several moments. Nathan’s mind was racing. An old Spanish map. Was that what had triggered the stories of gold Bibles? Finally, he glanced up out of the corner of his eye. “Joseph?”

  “Yes?”

  Nathan suddenly changed his mind. His reticence to pry overcame his curiosity. He just shook his head.

  Joseph was looking at him. “What?” he asked again.

  “Nothing.”

  One of Joseph’s eyebrows came up slowly.

  Nathan just shook his head. “Nothing,” he repeated. “It ain’t none of my affair.”

  They walked on for several steps in silence. Then Hyrum spoke. “It’s about what Joshua was sayin’ earlier today, isn’t it?”

  For a moment Nathan didn’t respond, then finally shrugged.

  “Do you ask this for yourself?” Joseph asked quietly.

  The question caught Nathan by surprise.

  “Do you really want to know, or is this just because of the things you’ve heard?”

  “The only thing I’ve heard is what Will Murdock and his brother said to you in town.”

  There was an answering laugh, not of amusement but one filled with derision. “You mean you haven’t heard Joe Smith is a lazy, no-account loafer, a drunkard who is immoral and untrustworthy?”

  “And of limited mental capacity,” Hyrum added bitterly. “Don’t forget that.”

  “Yes, that too.”

  The exchange took Nathan aback.

  “That’s what people are saying about Joseph,” Hyrum went on. “You’ll probably hear stories about our family as well—about us being grave robbers, devil worshippers, who knows what else.”

  Nathan was flabbergasted. He looked first at Hyrum, then at Joseph. “You’ve only worked with our family for a short time, but I know you pretty well by now. I wouldn’t believe them kind of stories for a minute. And neither would anyone else in my family.”

  Joseph stopped, looking at him closely. Then he reached out and grasped his arm. “Thank you,” he said, obviously touched.

  “Why would anyone want to say them kind of things about you?”

  Joseph let out a long sigh, filled with weariness. But he didn’t speak, just started to walk again, more slowly now. Nathan and Hyrum watched him for a moment, t
hen fell in step beside him. Finally, Joseph looked over at Hyrum, a questioning look on his face. Their eyes locked for several seconds, something passed between them, then Hyrum finally nodded.

  Joseph glanced up at the sky, now darkening quickly. Pink and gold tinged the clouds in the west. They were just a short distance from Palmyra Village now, and soon Nathan would have to turn back. “If we stop and talk for a spell,” Joseph said slowly, “it will make you late for supper.”

  “No, Ma said it would be at least an hour.” Actually the “at least” was Nathan’s addition, but there was no way he was going to cut off Joseph’s willingness to talk now.

  Joseph gestured to a grassy spot alongside a small stream just on the other side of a rail fence. “Then let’s sit for a while.”

  They crossed over the rail fence and sat down. A cool breeze had sprung up now, and the chill of night would soon be on them. The wind tousled a lock of Joseph’s light brown hair. For several moments he toyed with new blades of grass sprouting beneath him, smoothing them with his fingertips, lost in his thoughts. When he looked up, his eyes—those light blue eyes which were always arresting in their intensity—were a curious mixture of…what? Nathan wasn’t sure. Sorrow? Exultation? Weariness? Joy?

  “I’ll not ask you to believe what I’m about to tell you, Nathan,” Joseph began slowly. “But I would appreciate it if you would hear me through to the end.”

  “All right.”

  Hyrum settled back, content to let Joseph take the lead now. Joseph’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as if trying to choose each word with great care. “Did you ever go to a camp meeting, Nathan?”

  “You mean a religious camp meeting?”

  Joseph nodded.

  “No. Heard a lot about them, but Pa always had strong feelings ’bout them being kinda organized madness, so we never went.”

  “They’re kind of dying out again now, but along about ten years ago they were real popular in these parts. In fact, there were so many circuit-riding preachers and so many people ‘getting on fire’ with the Holy Spirit, this part of New York came to be called ‘the Burned-Over District.’”

  “A full-blown camp meeting is somethin’ to behold,” Hyrum put in. “There was a real big one in this part of the state just last year.”

  “Word was sent ahead from village to village,” Joseph said. “Families came from everywhere, riding two and three days sometimes, bringing tents and provisions. Platforms were built in open spaces and the people camped all around them. There were probably twenty, maybe thirty, ministers come to preach.”

  “Sounds like quite an experience,” Nathan said.

  “Yes,” agreed Joseph. “My parents had never belonged to any church. Not that they’re not God-fearing folk. We’ve read the Bible in our family from the time we were small.”

  “That’s exactly how our family is,” Nathan said.

  “So,” Joseph continued, “when the preachers started coming into the area, calling on people to join up with this church or that, our family started thinking about it. This was almost ten years ago, I’d say, so I was about twelve or thirteen.”

  “I finally joined the Presbyterian church,” Hyrum volunteered. “So did Mother and two of the other children. Joseph was kind of leaning to the Methodists.”

  “But you didn’t join?” Nathan asked.

  There was a slow shake of the head. He broke off a stem of a weed and began to chew on it thoughtfully. “At first I was quite excited by it all. But then somethin’ really started troubling me.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, at first all the ministers kept saying it didn’t matter which church you followed, as long as you were really sincere and got ‘converted,’ as they called it. But even young as I was, I noticed it was mostly just talk. As soon as people started choosing one church or another, all the good feelings kinda disappeared. Ministers would argue with ministers over who had the truth. ‘Converts’ to one church would tell ‘converts’ to another church that they had made a terrible mistake and had put their eternal salvation at risk. One thing was clear to me in all this: ‘Love your neighbor’ and Christian charity quickly went out the window.

  “This went on for more than a year. Before long I was so confused, I didn’t know what to do. All around me was confusion. What was I to do? What if I made the wrong choice? To my young mind this was a decision of eternal consequence, and I didn’t want to do something that wasn’t right.”

  Nathan was engrossed now in Joseph’s account. “So what did you do?”

  “I started to read the Bible. My mother taught us the scriptures were God’s word. So I decided maybe I could find the answer there.”

  He stopped, his eyes gazing out across the field where they sat. Nathan watched him closely, tempted to press, but knowing it was better to let Joseph take it at his own pace.

  “One day I happened to be reading in the Epistle of Saint James. I came to the first chapter and the fifth verse.” He swung around and looked directly at Nathan, his eyes suddenly piercing in their intensity.

  “Tell him what it says, Joseph,” Hyrum urged.

  Joseph nodded, his voice now soft, almost reverent. “It says: ‘If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.’ ”

  “Hmmm,” Nathan murmured. “That’s a wonderful promise.”

  Joseph nodded. “Never had any passage of scripture come with such power to my mind. It entered with great force into every feeling of my heart. I reflected on it again and again. Finally, I decided that if there was ever anyone who lacked wisdom, it was me. I decided right then and there I would do exactly as James said. I would ask God which church I should join.” He exhaled slowly, leaning back, lost in his thoughts.

  “And?” Nathan pressed.

  “By now it was early in the spring of 1820. I knew of a quiet place in the woods near our home. I had decided this would be the place where I would go and pray. It was a beautiful clear morning. I went into the woods, and making sure I was alone, I immediately knelt down to pray.”

  A sudden shadow passed across Joseph’s face. He shook his head slightly as if trying to brush it aside. He was staring down at the ground as unconsciously he began to tear off the blades of grass and drop them into a little pile. When he spoke, his voice was low. “To my amazement, I found I couldn’t utter a word. It was as though my tongue was swollen in my head.”

  Nathan blinked. This was not what he had expected to hear.

  “Suddenly I thought I heard footsteps behind me, someone walking towards me in the dry leaves. I was startled. I whipped around.” Now at last he looked up, directly into Nathan’s eyes. “No one was there.”

  Nathan felt a sudden chill run up and down his spine.

  “I turned back, thinking it was my imagination. Remember, I was only a fourteen-year-old boy at this time.” He bowed his head, as though reliving those moments. His lips were compressed into a tight line, and he shook his head. “But again, I couldn’t utter a word. And then I heard someone behind me again, only louder this time. I jumped to my feet and whirled around, determined to catch whoever it was.” Once more there was a long, breathless pause. “There was no one there. Nothing!”

  He stopped and took a breath. “Remember, Nathan. This wasn’t nighttime. It was full daylight on a bright spring morning.”

  Nathan nodded, transfixed by the power in Joseph’s eyes.

  “At that very instant, I was seized by some powerful force which bound me tight.” He reached out and gripped Nathan’s arm. “I’m not talking about some imaginary force, Nathan. I was in the grip of a being from the unseen world, a being more powerful than anything I had ever experienced. The power was astonishing. I was completely bound. I could not even cry out in my terror.”

  Nathan’s mind flashed to his contest with Joseph in pulling sticks. He knew personally of Joseph’s tremendous strength. The power had bound Joseph completely? He shivered involunt
arily.

  “Thick darkness began to gather around me. I was terrified, for I was certain I was doomed to utter destruction.”

  “What happened? What was it?”

  His eyes grave, Joseph replied, “I exerted all my powers to call upon God for deliverance from this enemy which had seized me. Then…” He paused, the line of his jaw softening. “At the very moment of my deepest despair, as I was about to abandon myself to destruction, at that precise moment, I saw a pillar of light.”

  Nathan’s head snapped up.

  Joseph went on steadily now, speaking slowly but with great earnestness. “It was exactly over my head. It was far brighter than the sun at noonday. The light was so intense I thought the very leaves would burst into flame. It descended gradually until it fell upon me. Instantly, the moment the light touched me, I was delivered from the enemy which held me bound.

  “When the light rested upon me, I saw two personages—” He stopped, noting the expression on Nathan’s face. “I saw two personages,” he continued firmly, “whose glory and brightness defy all description. They were standing above me in the air.”

  Now it was Nathan who involuntarily passed a hand across his eyes. A pillar of light? Two personages?

  “The one spoke,” Joseph continued, softly now, and more slowly, as though giving Nathan time to digest the words. “He called me by name. ‘Joseph,’ he said, ‘this is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!’”

  He stopped, watching Nathan closely.

  Nathan’s mind was reeling. “Are you saying…” He faltered, overwhelmed. “You mean you saw…” He could not bring himself to say it.

  Joseph nodded with the utmost solemnity. “I saw God and I saw his Son, Jesus Christ.” He sighed, suddenly weary. “I know how that must sound to you. But I say again, Nathan, and I say it with all the power of my soul: I saw the Father and I saw his Son.”

  He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Remember, Nathan, you promised to hear me out.”